Juventud
by Patcheye
Summary: Why is Zack afraid of snow? Why is Ginger always looking for 'Scary Man'? And why does Yo-Yo smell funny? Find the answers to these questions and more! Please read/review.
1. Snow Buffalo

Disclaimer: Fortunately for me, I do not own the X-Men. I can't handle that amount of responsibility. But, all the Juventud are my creations and therefore belong to me. Just try and steal 'em. I've been wondering what Ruckus the Bad Kitty can do when she's really mad.

Author's note: The title of this story is dedicated to Jesse Manson, for entertaining me in sophomore year Spanish; "rascacielos", "juventud", and "modelo" will always be my favorite palabras de español. This story has been fermenting in my brain for…well, since fifth grade, but I've been writing so many college papers lately that I haven't had time to regurgitate all these AWESOME thoughts, so…complete apologies to my brain.

I'm giving this an R rating for language and possibly other stuff to come.

I guess this has to be an Alternate Universe story, cause it's pretty much my own little world. No X-Treme, no Ultimate, Remy did the whole Antarctica thing, but I'm not sure about the rest of the Gambit title. Oh well. We'll see how it goes.

"Jazzie!  Jazzie, hide me!!!"

            Snow flew in all directions as the panting figure haphazardly scurried across the park.  Strange, Storm thought quizzically, the owner of that panicked voice seemed to be running on all fours.  But, she reasoned, it was very hard to see anything through that thick cloud of white powder that was being kicked up.  Very reminiscent of buffalo across the prairie.  Storm smiled.

            "Jazzie!  He's gonna catch me!"

            Storm estimated the trajectory of the running body and placed its final destination at a bench that was already occupied.  A girl of about eighteen sat serenely, bundled up against the cold in a fetching navy blue jacket and matching scarf.  Her face was beautiful, and faintly familiar, framed with auburn hair the hue of the autumn woods at sunset.  The frigid breeze blew it across her face for a moment…and it struck Ororo that the last four inches of the girl's hair was pure, blinding white.  She turned the pages of Gregory Maguire's _Wicked_ rather clumsily, due to the black gloves that shielded her hands from the bitterly sharp December chill.  With a decidedly resigned air, she closed the book and looked over her right shoulder…

            …just in time to see the frantic flurry of snow disappear under the bench and behind her feet.

            "Ginger, what the hell is wrong with you?" she asked, bending over and peering beneath the wrought-iron bench.

            "He's after me again!  I don't want to lose this time!"

            "You always lose; better get used to it, curly."  Startled, and almost ashamed to be spying on these strange children, Ororo glanced at the newcomer to the scene.  The boy was short and gruff, with hair of two shades.  Close to the roots it was a midnight black, but most of its six-inch length had been dyed a violent shade of crimson.  He grinned, showing off a menacing snarl.  "You can't hide from me."

            Exploding from under the bench, the 'snow buffalo' seethed with indignation, and Storm could finally see her true form.  Ginger was a girl with snapping golden eyes and gorgeous, tangled dark-blonde curls tumbling down her back.  "You'd better watch yourself, badger-boy; one of these days I'm gonna get you!"

            "Not in this lifetime, Ginger-Kat," the boy sneered, beginning his advance.

            "I'm older than you, and I say I win!"

            "By one day, and _I_ say _I_ win!"

            "Alright, enough!"  The girl on the bench stood, brushing off her coat.  "Let's continue this age-old battle someplace else, _children_.  Hopefully Penny started dinner, and even more hopefully…"

            "…Matt didn't destroy the house?" Ginger suggested.

            "…Simon came to visit?" the boy suggested suggestively, eyebrow raised.

            "No," the girl said, blushing slightly, "_hopefully_ Ashelee started up the fireplace, _hopefully_ Yo-Yo made some cocoa, and _hopefully_ we can all fucking sit down like a big happy family and have a nice evening together."

            Ginger and the boy exchanged a dubious look, then burst into giggles and guffaws.

            "In your wildest dreams, Jazz, in your wildest dreams."

            They strode off through the park, arm in arm, and Ororo Monroe watched them go, a smile playing across her lips.


	2. Home Sweet Home

Disclaimer: Fortunately for me, I do not own the X-Men. I can't handle that amount of responsibility. But, all the Juventud are my creations and therefore belong to me. Just try and steal 'em. I've been wondering what Ruckus the Bad Kitty can do when she's really mad.

Author's note: The title of this story is dedicated to Jesse Manson, for entertaining me in sophomore year Spanish; "rascacielos", "juventud", and "modelo" will always be my favorite palabras de español. This story has been fermenting in my brain for…well, since fifth grade, but I've been writing so many college papers lately that I haven't had time to regurgitate all these AWESOME thoughts, so…complete apologies to my brain.

I'm giving this an R rating for language and possibly other stuff to come.

I guess this has to be an Alternate Universe story, cause it's pretty much my own little world. No X-Treme, no Ultimate, Remy did the whole Antarctica thing, but I'm not sure about the rest of the Gambit title. Oh well. We'll see how it goes.

            Home was, in fact, the exact opposite of what Jazmin wished it to be.  The warmth hit her like a baseball bat the minute she opened the door, while the noise chose a different mode, and came at her like a freight train.  Ten year-old Alisa and Jazz's little brother, seven year-old RJ, went racing by her, presumably outside to make a snowman.  Penelope was indeed in the kitchen, making dinner and assisted by Ecco, Rainne and Harriet.  The four girls were setting the tables, simmering soup, and checking the roast every few seconds.  Jazz smiled at that.

            Crouched around the television, presumably watching some sporting event, were George, Jason, Junior, Stephen, Matt, Gabriel, Riker, and Roxanne.  Roxanne.  Jazz could never understand her friend's fascination with contact sports.  Then, considering her mother, maybe Jazz _could_ understand.  A god-awful din came from that corner of the room, in the form of, "Go! Go! Go!" and, "Aww, he was robbed!"

            Ashelee and Fiona were struggling to get the logs in the fireplace to accept flame.  They wanted to get something done the hard way, so therefore, multiple boxes of matches lay scattered around them, empty.  The two were staring at the logs, debating on whether or not to cheat and then say they got lucky with the matches.  The hard way was _hard_.

            Yolana had managed to find her own little bit of serenity in the bay window's niche.  Light from the house spilled out onto the snow, illuminating Yo-Yo's glossy sheet of platinum blonde hair.  Her calm, sky blue eyes scanned the pages of the book she was reading; she looked completely cozy and at peace.  But then, that was always Yo-Yo's style.

            The only person Jazz couldn't place was Angelica, and frankly, Jazz wouldn't care if Angel dropped off the face of the Earth.

            As for Zack…well, she always knew where Zack was.  Right now, he was in the boys' room, and Jazz decided that was where she would like to be, as well.  She found her twin brother snoring softly in his bed, his ruddy brown hair tousled and messy; one of his arms was looped gently around Cloud, Ecco's sweet gray kitten, who seemed to absolutely adore Zackary.  With a sigh, Jazz shed her coat and shoes and slipped into the bed beside him.  Taking the edge of her scarf, she tickled his nose until the snoring stopped and he snorted himself awake.  His free arm crept around her and squeezed, and he spoke without bothering to open his eyes.  She soon discovered why.

            "Jazzie?"

            "Yeah, lil' bro?

            "There's snow outside."  The arm around her waist tightened, and his eyes scrunched closed even tighter.  "I'm cold."

            The words struck deep within Jazmin's heart.  *Oh no.  I hoped he'd grown out of this.  Maybe if we're lucky, he won't have a panic attack.*

            "Oh Zack, it's okay.  You're safe inside, you're warm, and I'm here to protect you.  No worries, Zackary Alexander, no worries."

            Ever since he was small, Zack had reacted violently to the onset of winter.  As an infant, he had squalled whenever he was carried outside, no matter how tightly he was swaddled.  As a toddler, he had thrown temper tantrums, kicking and screaming, and once had even bitten through their father's hand.  Dad had felt bad, Jazz remembered; he felt guilty over passing on to his son the phobia that the older man had managed to overcome.

            As he grew older, Zack learned how to partially control his crippling fear.  From the first snow of the season, he would remain inside the house for up to a week, until his mind was able to wrap itself around the fact that _snow is harmless_.  Still, there were times when the endless white blanket would send him into fits of hysterics.  His panic attacks forced their mother to tears, for she believed in her heart that it was all her fault.  No amount of consoling or logic could convince her otherwise.

            This was Zack's first adverse reaction to snow since their arrival in Salem Center.  Jazmin sighed.  Hopefully it wouldn't get any worse, and he would recover before dinner.  She cuddled her brother close, stroking his hair and attempting to soothe away his terror and replace it with the absolute love she had for him (even when he did something really stupid, and that was often).  She clung to the hope that would pull through the attack in time for the show.

            That was another thing they had inherited from their parents.  The unwavering belief in hope.


	3. I Wanna Run Away

Disclaimer: Fortunately for me, I do not own the X-Men.  I can't handle that amount of responsibility.  But, all the Juventud are my creations and therefore belong to me.  Just try and steal 'em.  I've been wondering what Ruckus the Bad Kitty can do when she's really mad.

Author's note: The lyrics in this chapter are not copyright to me, but to Linkin Park.  The first one is By Myself, and the second is Runaway.  By the way, * means personal, internal thoughts.

I'm giving this an R rating for language and possibly other stuff to come.

I guess this has to be an Alternate Universe story, cause it's pretty much my own little world.  No X-Treme, no Ultimate, Remy did the whole Antarctica thing, but I'm not sure about the rest of the Gambit title.  Oh well.  We'll see how it goes.

"What do I do to ignore them behind me?

Do I follow my instincts blindly?

Do I hide my pride from these bad dreams,

And give in to sad thoughts that are maddening?

Do I sit here and try to stand it?

Or do I try to catch them red-handed?

Do I trust some and get fooled by phoniness,

Or do I trust nobody and live in loneliness?"

            Jason stood alone on stage, a dim spotlight bringing out a gleam in his chocolate skin and a menacing glint in his soulful brown eyes.  His entire stance, come to think of it, forcefully called to life dangerous feelings of incrimination, agony, and anguish.  His tall, muscular frame invoked an ominous presence, and his clear, strong voice jabbed the questions at the members of the audience, demanding answers.

            Jazmin was awed by his confidence and skill.  She sighed thoughtfully, letting the sound of Aussie's beloved guitar wash over her.

            Thankfully, Zack had recovered from his near panic in time to scarf down a quick bite of dinner leftovers and hightail it to Harry's Hideaway.  The bar had dedicated Thursday nights to the local youth, and Jazz had easily gotten the boys the gig as musical entertainment.  This wasn't their usual setup, though.  There was no sign of Zack anywhere.

            Junior joined the mix on drums, and Steve filled in on bass.  Despite being a complete asshole, Steve was a great bass player.  Not a candle to Simon, Jazz thought with a wistful longing for the strong, quietly capable boy they had left behind at home.  Simon, the boy who was always careful not to spoil the glory of an uncle who was the same age as himself.  He had let Steve come on this adventure and had stayed home to monitor their progress.  So, Steve was the best they had available.

            Jason continued his narration.  If Jazz squinted, she could almost imagine him as his father, lamenting the misguided mistake he had made and atoning for it by supporting the man whom he had not trusted.  The man who had become the father of Zack and Jazz.

"Because I can't hold on when I'm stretched so thin

I make the right moves but I'm lost within

I put on my daily façade but then

I just end up getting hurt again

By myself…"

"Myself!"

            Zack burst onto the stage at the last moment to scream his line.  From then on, the voices of the two boys blended together, Jason's accusing tone barely distinguishable from Zack's tortured scream.

"I ask why, but in my mind

I find I can't rely on myself

Myself!

I ask why, but in my mind

I find I can't rely on myself

I can't hold on

To what I want when I'm stretched so thin

It's all too much to take in

I can't hold on

To anything watching everything spin

With thoughts of failure sinking in…"

            Zack melted back into the darkness, his voice fading like a desperate plea lost to the howling winter wind.  Things were so different here, Jazz mused.  Back home, their Poppa was blissfully happy, safe and secure in his life.  But here…oh, here things were so much different, so much worse.  Zack was absorbing the pain and misery he felt and transmitting it all in his voice.  His angelic tenor was filled with torment, and Jazz could only appreciate it for the song of lament that it was.

            Jason remained the strong, steadfast bastion of power that he had always been, laying it out the way it truly was, here and now.

"If I turn my back I'm defenseless

And to go blindly seems senseless

If I hide my pride and let it all go on 

Then they'll take from me 'till everything is gone

If I let them go I'll be outdone

But if I try to catch them I'll be outrun

If I'm killed by the questions like a cancer

Then I'll be buried in the silence of the answer

By myself…"

"Myself!"

            And again Zack came barreling out of the shadows, a few escaped strands of brandy-brown hair swinging into his eyes.  He brushed them away almost furiously, concentrating exclusively on making the modest crowd at Harry's feel every ounce of pain that burned inside him.

"I ask why, but in my mind

I find I can't rely on myself

Myself!

I ask why, but in my mind

I find I can't rely on myself

I can't hold on

To what I want when I'm stretched so thin

It's all too much to take in

I can't hold on

To anything watching everything spin

With thoughts of failure sinking in…"

            Jason stepped up to the front, the two boys standing side by side, mirrors of suffering.  They shared the pain of their fathers, one whose entire life was a mistake, and one who never would have had a life if not for the other.  Jason spoke, and it seemed his voice was made of shards of glass.

"How do you think I've lost so much?

I'm so afraid, I'm out of touch

How do you expect I will know what to do,

When all I know is what you tell me to!"

            Zack's face screwed up in a rictus of pain, and his lungs sucked in enough air to make the last syllables of the next four lines echo from the rafters.

"Don't you _know_

I can't tell you how to make it _go_

No matter what I do, how hard I _try_

I can't seem to convince myself _why_

I'm stuck on the outside

Don't you _know_

I can't tell you how to make it _go_

No matter what I do, how hard I _try_

I can't seem to convince myself _why_

I'm stuck on the outside…"

            Zack came into his own, serenading with promises of retribution and unending agony, while Aussie wailed away on his precious baby, the guitar that seemed to come alive in his hands.  Steve dutifully poured all the emotion he could muster into the rental bass that had been found for him.  This wasn't his kind of thing.  But Jason and Zack were completely immersed in their own little world, now.

"I can't hold on

To what I want when I'm stretched so thin

It's all too much to take in

I can't hold on

To anything watching everything spin

With thoughts of failure sinking in

I can't hold on

To what I want when I'm stretched so thin

It's all too much to take in

I can't hold on

To anything watching everything spin

With thoughts of failure sinking…"

            And the song ended.  Suddenly and with no preamble, leaving the sense of ultimate pain lingering in the air.  The room exploded with applause, and Jazz allowed a small sense of pride to enter her heart.  They were very, very good.  The stage went dark and the boys disappeared into the back room.

            Although most of her thoughts were centered on her brother's mental and emotional health, she noticed the ding of the bell on the door as it opened.  She held her breath as the three newcomers walked in.  Quickly glancing around and making sure all the members of her extended family were backstage - *Well, except for me* - Jazz watched as the three found an unoccupied table in the back and sat down.

            "Thank you so much for letting me come, I reallyreallyreally couldn't miss this, I heard they were completelytotallyawesome!"

            Ororo smiled gently at Jubilee.  The girl had been begging to come to Harry's for the past two weeks, and Storm suspected that she had already snuck out without permission at least once.  It was decided that guardianship was much preferable, so she and Logan had decided to accompany the little spitfire to the newly christened 'Alternative Thursday' at Harry's.  "I'm glad you're so excited, Jubilee.  Indeed, I am curious to see what level of talent this new local band possesses."

            "They're probably just a load o' crap," Logan grumbled.  "Don't get too excited."

  
            "C'mon, Wolvie, don't be such a poop.  I heard they do really awesome Linkin Park and Hoobastank covers.  Angelo says they're called Juv…Juvie…something in Spanish.  And they play a lot of other stuff, all kinds of genres.  Something for everyone!" the girl exclaimed, trying to sell the idea of staying for more than five minutes.  Logan groused to himself.

            "I believe they are named Juventud – it means 'youth'," Ororo chuckled as she scanned the room…and suddenly found herself eye to eye with the girl from the park.  Even from across the room, she could feel the intensity of the stare pointed at her from the most brilliant green eyes she had ever seen.  The most brilliant, except for…

            Her confused reverie and the stare were broken by Logan's startled alert.

            "I smell something…weird."

            "Weird in what way, my friend?" Ororo asked, watching the girl out of the corner of her eye.  She stood and attempted to walk toward the backstage area, and was almost bowled over by another familiar figure.  The other girl from the park, Ginger, if Ororo remembered correctly.  The tawny girl's nose was twitching, and she was struggling to keep from gesticulating wildly.  The green-eyed girl nodded, and Ginger's face fell, into a look of almost terror.  She slunk away towards backstage, and was followed closely by the other girl.

            "It's gone now.  Just be on your toes, ladies," Logan said, his voice somewhat lighter.

            "What did it smell like, Wolvie?" Jubilee asked, completely confused.  There were a lot of kids in the room, but other than that, what could he have sensed?

            "Smelled like…cat."  His own nose twitched, its interest piqued.

            The stage lights were refocused so that a crimson aura suffused the stage.  The five boys emerged from the dressing room and assumed their positions.  Steve placed himself at far stage left, the end closest to the doors.  Aussie stood at stage right, resembling an annoyed porcupine as he stared at Steve.  *That little prick knows I can't stand being far away from an escape route…I hate him.*  His red spikes practically bristled as he snarled at Steve.  Junior settled himself in behind the drums, raking a hand through his short, thick black hair.  Jason and Zack stepped up almost to the edge of the stage, a light sheen of perspiration visible on Jason's shaved head.  Zack let his unruly bangs fall in his face, and this time didn't brush them away.  This song always got to him.  He hated knowing that his father was ever in this type of situation, ever in this sort of pain.  But hiding from it wouldn't make it any better.  *Buck up, Zack.  When you get home, you can play Get In, Get Out with RJ and everything will be fine.*

            George sat at the 'light booth', twiddling his thumbs.  The whole control board was just there for show.  Strawberry blond Ashelee sat on his left and raven-haired Rainne on his right, both girls waving their fingers in the air and causing flame colored light and midnight shadows to combat each other.

            "This light show is fantastic!" someone would inevitably scream from the crowd, and George would just smile, noting how much fun the two fifteen year-old girls were having.  Their smiles just about split their faces, and their hands waved gracefully in the air.  Ashelee's fingers were bright red at the tips, and jets of heatless flame steamed into the air only to be swallowed partially by the shadows that Rainne commanded.  Zack grinned up at them, and George nudged the two girls.  The show was about to resume.  Zackary Alexander opened his mouth.

"Graffiti decorations

Under a sky of dust

A constant wave of tension

On top of broken trust

The lessons that you taught me

I learned were never true

Now I find myself in question…"

"They point the finger at me again!"

            "Ororo…'Ro, look!"

            "Goddess, they are amazing…"

"Guilty by association…"

"You point the finger at me again!"

"I wanna run away

Never say goodbye

I wanna know the truth

Instead of wondering why

I wanna know the answers

No more lies

I wanna shut the door

And open up my mind…"

            Storm's mind was whirling as she watched the boys on stage.  Again, Zack emptied all the confusion and anger that he felt into the lyrics of the song, his eyes flashing.  Ororo stared right into those eyes…neon blue that seemed to glow and enrapture the audience.

"Paper bags and angry voices

Under a sky of dust

Another wave of tension

Has more than filled me up

All my talk of taking action

These words were never true

Now I find myself in question…"

"They point the finger at me again!"

"Guilty by association…"

"You point the finger at me again!"

            Jason accused the crowd, his commanding voice rising above to create shame.  That was what the song was about, Storm realized.  It was a defense of the blamed, an almost childish revelation of the course of action now that there was nothing left to stay for.

"I wanna run away

Never say goodbye

I wanna know the truth

Instead of wondering why

I wanna know the answers

No more lies

I wanna shut the door

And open up my mind…"

            Zack seemed to fold in on himself, but the anguish got stronger and radiated from his contorted body.

"I'm gonna run away, and never say good_bye_!"

"Gonna run away, gonna run away

Gonna run away, gonna run away."

"I'm gonna run away and never wonder _why_!"

"Gonna run away, gonna run away

Gonna run away, gonna run away."

"I'm gonna run away and open up my _mind_!"

"Gonna run away, gonna run away

Gonna run away, gonna run away

"Gonna run away, gonna run away

Gonna run away, gonna run away."

            Zack screamed intermittently through Jason's spoken words, and then the chorus came crashing back down around their heads.

"I wanna run away

Never say goodbye

I wanna know the truth

Instead of wondering why

I wanna know the answers

No more lies

I wanna shut the door

And open up my mind

I wanna run away and open up my mind

I wanna run away and open up my mind

I wanna run away and open up my mind

I wanna run away _and open up my mind_."

            Once more, the song ended abruptly and left Storm with a sense of astonishment.  She knew pain like that.  As a matter of fact, she was a witness right now to pain like that.  Since his return from Antarctica, Remy had remained outwardly the charming, snake-in-the-grass but ultimately good friend that he always had been.  However, Ororo could feel the maelstrom of bad things swirling inside him, just waiting for the chance to explode.  *Perhaps I should get him into singing alternative rock,* the silver-haired goddess thought, *It sure seems to be working for these boys.*

            "I gotta admit, I was wrong," Wolverine apologized to Jubilee.  "You were right; they were pretty damn good."

            "I'm always right.  I wonder if I could get backstage…"

            "Don't even think about it, darlin'."

            "But I wanna meet them, they're so _cool_!" Jubilee squealed.

            The lights came up on the stage, and a single figure carrying a microphone strode purposefully but gracefully to center stage.  Catcalls went up from the male members of the audience, and the beautiful girl merely smiled serenely.

            "Hello there," Yolana said with the voice of an angel, her platinum blonde hair brushing her shoulders and her calm blue eyes scanning the crowd.  "I was sitting backstage, entertaining myself, when it occurred to me that you don't know anything about us."  Cheers went up from the crowd, and this time Yolana grinned.  "So, Jazmin elbowed me in the ribs and said, 'Go out there and introduce us if you want to do this so badly.'  Therefore, here I am, and here we are.

            "We are the Juventud."  The crowd went ballistic.

            "Looks like you got your wish, darlin'," Logan stated, a small frown appearing on his face as he studied Yolana.  "She smells funny."


	4. Introductions

Disclaimer: Fortunately for me, I do not own the X-Men. I can't handle that amount of responsibility. But, all the Juventud are my creations and therefore belong to me. Just try and steal 'em. I've been wondering what Ruckus the Bad Kitty can do when she's really mad.

Author's note: The title of this story is dedicated to Jesse Manson, for entertaining me in sophomore year Spanish; "rascacielos", "juventud", and "modelo" will always be my favorite palabras de español. This story has been fermenting in my brain for…well, since fifth grade, but I've been writing so many college papers lately that I haven't had time to regurgitate all these AWESOME thoughts, so…complete apologies to my brain.

I'm giving this an R rating for language and possibly other stuff to come.

I guess this has to be an Alternate Universe story, cause it's pretty much my own little world. No X-Treme, no Ultimate, Remy did the whole Antarctica thing, but I'm not sure about the rest of the Gambit title. Oh well. We'll see how it goes.

            Someone decided to try chivalry for a change, and provided a stool for Yolana to sit on.  She accepted gratefully, with a nod of her burnished head, and crossed her legs and smiled.

            "And now, as I promised…hello everyone.  My name is Yolana Lily, affectionately referred to as Yo-Yo or Lana, although in Ginger's case…well, Ginger seems to think I smell funny, sort of resembling, um…bird?…but, only when she's hungry.  However, when that does happen, she tends to refer to me as 'dinner'.  I don't particularly enjoy that, though.  So let's just stick to Lana, ok?  Let's see…"  A look of intense concentration appeared on the face of the oldest member of the Juventud.  Her sky blue eyes sparkled with amusement.  "Here's something interesting.  I was born on New Year's Day, never mind the year," a coquettish smile, "and I do not have a favorite color.  I love them all."  Yet more catcalls ascended from the audience, and Yo-Yo wagged her finger at them.  "Aussie would be more than willing to kick your behinds, my friends.  He's very protective of me lately for some reason, and I wouldn't rile him."

            "Sounds like someone I know," Jubilee muttered, elbowing Logan in the ribs.  He merely grinned.  Yolana continued, seemingly unperturbed by the rapt fascination that was being paid her.

            "I speak Italian…I bet you did not know that.  Actually, I speak many languages, but Italian is my favorite.  If any of you are willing to listen to House music, there is a song we perform called 'Spente la Stelle' where they graciously allow me to sing Italian opera."  Someone laughed, and Lana tilted her head.  A long, slender, _pointed_ ear emerged from the curtain of glistening hair.   "No, seriously, the two styles blend very well together.  Perhaps sometime we will play it for you all.  Now, enough about me – I'm sure you're not very interested in 'little ol' me', as Jazmin would say.  Who would you like to meet next?  Peter the towering drummer, Stephen the mediocre bass player, Aussie the porcupine guitarist, Jason the gentle baritone, or Zackary the screaming tenor?"

            The crowd erupted, each person calling out the name of their personal favorite musician.  Yolana listened for a moment or two, both ears now protruding from her hair, then nodded to herself and made the wise decision.

            "I agree.  I will call all of them out.  Boys?"  Cheers emerged from the audience, as the boys did indeed materialize on stage.  Jason and Peter lifted a couch with seemingly no effort at all, and placed it to the side of Yolana's stool.  Peter, Aussie, and Steve then proceeded to plop down upon said couch, leaving Zack and Jason to perch on the precarious arms.  Storm was struck by their appearances, but she couldn't determine why.  They just looked so familiar, but she couldn't figure out where from.  Jason was ruggedly handsome, his eyes a warm chocolate brown that was only a few shades lighter than his skin.  He was tall and powerful, and his head was clean shaven.  Peter was even taller and broader than Jason, his hair coal black and his hands massive, but gentle.  His gray eyes shone with kindness that was soul deep.  Steve didn't look very happy to be on stage; the frown lines between his mocha-colored eyes expressed his displeasure.  Strands of his hazelnut hair, tinged with red, slid into his face as he tried to melt into the couch.  On the other hand, Aussie sat forward, resting his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees.  The hair that distinguished him aimed for the heavens, the red spikes rustling against each other.  The boy's raven black eyes surveyed the audience, a knowing grin crossing his face.  Zack lounged on the far arm of the couch, sipping water from a bottle.  His neon eyes glowed to match the smile on his face, and he lazily raked a hand through those brandy-brown locks that the girls in the audience were going gaga over.  They were a picture, that's for sure.  Jazmin snickered backstage.

            With a mischievous grin, Yo-Yo turned to face the fans.  "We will now field questions from the audience."  The smiles faltered on the boys' faces.


End file.
